Never Meant To
by MajinSakuko
Summary: Complete! Snape was attacked and Lupin nurses him back to health. Slash!


Title: Never Meant To

Part: 1. Hurt

Author: MajinSakuko

E-Mail: MajinSakukoyahoo.de

Beta-Reader: Persephone Lupin

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, JKR everything else

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing/Main-Chara: SS/RL

Rating: PG-13

Genre/s: Drama, Romance (Slash)

Warning/s: Maybe sometimes too humorous for the topic

A/N: Set in POA

Summary: Snape was attacked and Lupin nurses him back to health. H/C

-

Pain lanced through his head, concentrating somewhere between his temples and pounding back and forth from one side to the other like some annoying Muggle ping pong caught in a time loop. Severus Snape threaded his fingers through his lanky hair, cradling his skull. His breath was ragged, his chest hurt as if he had been victim to a stampede of raging Hippogriffs on their way to wherever they went when they weren't breeding illegally in Hagrid's backyard, and one of his molars was pulsating unpleasantly, but whether that was because someone had hit him in the jaw or because he had had one too many of his prized chocolate chip cookies, Snape wasn't sure. His back ached, his shoulders hurt and his toe throbbed from where he'd managed to bang it on a rather large rock while falling ungracefully to the ground. He didn't even want to start thinking about his coccyx.

As if his physical suffering wasn't enough on its own, Snape also felt the telltale sensation in his slowly freezing-over heart as the already scarcely present happiness was sucked out of him. He could almost feel the Dementors milling around him, trapping him on the spot. He couldn't see them, though. And it was making his skin crawl and his heart speed up drastically. As this wasn't a surprise birthday party, though, Snape didn't like the sensation in the least. Never mind that the Dementors could easily Kiss him – and Snape certainly had better ideas of whose lips he'd like to caress his own -, he never moved nor looked for his fallen wand.

He was paralysed in his stupor, unable to even try to defend himself. His greatest fear, the creepy feeling of the unbeknownst, was slowing seeping into his bones, into his mind, everywhere, and it was all Snape could do not to pass out from a nervous breakdown.

2. Heal

Lupin willed himself to stay motionless since gnawing one's thumb was so unbecoming for a grown man, especially if said thumb was still fairly usable. He could, for instance, use it to smooth out Snape's forehead, or to brush back sweaty strands of dark hair, or, if need ever arose, pry Snape's mouth open to make him drink some hot chocolate to battle the after-effects of the Dementor attack.

So he did.

His palm was sweaty, yet his fingers were stiff and cold, and even the hot cup of cocoa in his hand did little to change that. It felt as though he absorbed the heat but his body wasn't able to use it properly to chase away the ice nestling in his bones.

Once again Lupin's thumb was put to good use, rubbing Snape's throat in order to goad the black-haired man to swallow.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' the werewolf chanted silently. 'What have those monsters done to you?'

Lupin couldn't stand the sight of Snape being so ... vulnerable – a term he had never thought he'd associate with Snape. The surly Potions master was many things, but vulnerable? He'd rather die than-

Lupin couldn't stand the sight of Snape – so he turned away. Which was something he was quite experienced in.

A dry cough startled Lupin out of his musings, and the werewolf whirled around, the room spinning on even after he'd maintained his bearings again.

"Severus?" he asked with relief, still slightly nauseated at his involuntary roundabout ride. "You're awake!"

"Tell me about it," the other man rasped sarcastically.

"I'm so glad." Remus breathed a sigh of relief as the burden lifted from his shoulders. Snape was still his usual self.

3. Hint

There was a big difference between knowing and acknowledging. Knowing meant that Snape could keep the information in his head, only for himself, nobody else would ever have to know. For who would want to willingly saunter into his mind via Legilimency? Acknowledging, though, meant that he had to nod and say it was true, tell other people. And Snape, though it might not be a widely known fact, wasn't too fond of social interaction. His outgoing nature really could fool at times.

Snape knew many things, yet he acknowledged little. That had been his way of surviving for the better part of his life. Just look where it had got him: He was alive, after all, something that couldn't be said of the vast majority of his former peers. The ones that resided in Azkaban now, the place where the sun never shone, not taken into account.

He knew for a fact that Black was innocent, but he'd never say it aloud without fearing to immediately feel compelled to cut out his tongue, of which he was rather fond. Leashing out viciously wouldn't have the desired effect anymore without it.

He knew that the Potter brat was nothing like his father, apart from the looks department – but would he tell him so? He couldn't be that cruel. What would Gryffindor do with all the House points, anyway, were he not to deduct them? He was doing them a favour. But did anyone show some gratitude? Nooo.

He also knew that Longbottom wasn't an utter dunderhead, 'utter' being the operative word. However, if he acknowledged that, where would be the fun? And Merlin alone knew, he was suffering enough as it was and could do with a bit of entertainment. Entertainment that wasn't for adults only, that was.

When acknowledging a fact, he was forced to take action – or let others do so. Snape, who liked his peace and quiet and treasured nothing more than silence engulfing him when the mood struck (which was quite often, considering that he was living in a castle full of teenagers going through puberty and various other hormonal stages he had entirely no interest in), resented everything that only vaguely reminded him of 'action'. Therefore, he refrained from acknowledging as much as possible and contented himself with knowing.

It felt strange that he should keep the fact to himself that Lupin had let the Dementors on him. That was all it was, though: A strange, alien feeling inside his chest. No compassionate-boarding-on-pitying looks from McGonagall, no unwanted offers of bonbons "to sweeten up his sour mien" from Dumbledore (well, not more than usual), no scornful looks from the bloody Boy-Who-Lived (because the brat and his faithfully following puppies would surely manage to convince themselves it was the Greasy Git's fault that Lupin almost killed him – again - really, one should be led to believe the boy would begin to see a pattern). Nothing of that sort, only an emotion. And Snape could live with ignoring, suppressing, throttling and burying those unneeded and in his opinion highly overrated feelings in the darkest corner of his mind – right beside his oldest wish to become a Shakespeare actor – he did have the hair, after all, and the arrogance for a future star. Oh woe was him.

However, were Snape to open his mouth and say it aloud, "Yes, I know that Lupin collected the Boggarts from the dusty storage rooms. I am aware that he didn't need that many for his DADA lessons. I know that he set them after me to harm me. And I acknowledge that this was only due to the fact that he wanted to comfort me back to life."

Then he would be forced to act in the only way his mind offered and allowed. Not that the Potions master enjoyed torture – not much at any rate. However, he was a slave to his twisted mind.

Snape didn't know whether Lupin knew that he knew, he only knew that knowledge is power and that certainly elated him. One thing, though, Snape knew Lupin knew for sure: Snape loved him.

He knew, yet he could never acknowledge it.

It would be a fairly difficult relationship, but on the other hand, Snape wasn't exactly known for being easily handled. Lupin had met the challenge and Snape sure as star-shaped cinnamon biscuits in Advent would not let him go again.

-End-


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